


In the Morning

by demi_god_ing



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, This is so soft, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god_ing/pseuds/demi_god_ing
Summary: This was now the only reason Percy liked to get up early. He shifted his head closer to hers and watched her face, slack with sleep, wondering what dreams her gorgeous mind had come up with that night. He hoped she would tell him about them when she finally woke up. Maybe he would wake her up himself, right then, and ask her.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	In the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I know the Percabeth post-Tartarus nightmare scenario is definitely overdone, but I have this headcanon that Annabeth gets overheated at night... and then this happened and it sort of took on a life of its own. I have no explanation. Originally posted on tumblr.

Even all these years later, there were nights when one of them would wake in a cold sweat, heart tumbling around their ribs, throat closing around a scream trapped deep, deep in their chests, fingers scrambling for purchase on the sheets. The relief would unspool out into their limbs as their bodies recognized that the sheets were soft, well-worn, and smelled like the sea-scented detergent Percy had bought on a whim once at the grocery store. It was not the dark, hard stone of Tartarus beneath them, and it did not smell like ash and dank, stale death. And they were wearing pajamas––Percy in checkered sleep pants Sally had gotten him for Christmas and Annabeth in a hoodie she’d stolen from Percy’s dresser––or sometimes they were wearing nothing at all, in which case they could feel the smooth warmth of each other’s skin and trace each other’s scars, reminders of all the things they’d done together and all the things they’d somehow, miraculously, survived.

It was instinct at this point to reach for each other. Percy had been delighted to discover early in their relationship how cuddly Annabeth was, how she liked to be on top of him on the couch while they watched TV or curled up on his chest while they lay in bed or tucked under his arm while they rode the subway. But she was a restless sleeper and she easily overheated at night, so after enduring several nightmare-filled nights in which Annabeth wanted to be right up against him but then started whimpering that she was just so hot and kicking off the covers, Percy purchased a comforter especially designed for overheated sleepers for the nights that Annabeth snuck into his cabin. It was probably the best purchase he’d ever made. Now, years later, they had the same brand of comforter on the queen-sized bed they shared in their apartment, and it meant that on the nights when the bad memories snuck back into their dreams, Percy could wrap himself around Annabeth and Annabeth could wrap herself around Percy and they could hold onto each other for hours, huddled under the cooling comforter with their noses pressed together, breathing each other’s air until their minds settled back down and they remembered that they were out, that they were safe, that it was all behind them now.

But for every night one of them wrenched themselves awake from a nightmare, there were ten blissful, quiet mornings like this one. As a teenager, Percy had hated waking up early, but now it was his secret pleasure. Annabeth had never been a morning person, and she still was definitely not. She slept soundly, snoring softly through her nose, arms curled around her pillow and blond princess curls spread around her head. She was partially diagonal with her bare leg thrown over Percy’s waist. She was wearing these tiny striped sleep shorts that drove him crazy and an oversized T-shirt that had ridden up her hip. All this was hidden underneath their cooling comforter, which was pulled up almost to her shoulders, but Percy had sent out an exploratory hand upon waking and had been gratified to discover the revealed strip of warm skin. He pressed his fingers against it now, shuffling a bit closer to her. She mumbled a little in her sleep, her eyes twitching rapidly underneath her eyelids. This was now the only reason Percy liked to get up early. He shifted his head closer to hers and watched her face, slack with sleep, wondering what dreams her gorgeous mind had come up with that night. He hoped she would tell him about them when she finally woke up. Maybe he would wake her up himself, right then, and ask her.

Percy twisted a bit and ran his fingers up from her hip under her oversized T-shirt to the middle of her spine. “Wise Girl,” he breathed. She didn’t respond. “Annabeth,” he said a little louder.

Her eyes opened slowly, cloudy grey irises blinking at him, her eyebrows drawing down in irritation. “What? It’s Saturday and I’m trying to sleep.”

Percy grinned. “Am I annoying you?”

“Yes,” she snapped, lifting her leg from off his waist to kick the comforter off their bodies as she turned her head away from his to stare at the ceiling. “But you already know that. What do you want?”

“Will you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“You’re really sappy sometimes, you know that?”

“Sure.”

Annabeth made a huffing noise and threw one arm dramatically over her face. Percy could see the corners of her lips twitching. “Maybe I wasn’t dreaming about anything––did you think of that?”

Percy scoffed. “You’re the one who taught me that we always dream, we just don’t remember it sometimes.”

“Well, maybe I don’t remember my dream.”

“You _always_ remember your dreams.”

She pouted and lifted her arm from her face to meet his eyes. Percy raised his eyebrows at her and suddenly they were in a staring contest. Percy blinked first (he always did), but Annabeth just smiled and rolled back over onto her side to face him, propping her elbow on her pillow and her cheek in her hand. “Okay, Seaweed Brain, listen. I was at camp, but––”

“Was I there?” Percy interrupted.

Annabeth sighed through her nose. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I was in the Athena cabin but it was completely empty. I kept walking over to someone’s bed and yanking the covers off, but every time I did, there was always just a cat curled up underneath, staring at me with these giant, unblinking eyes.” She trailed off, watching him expectantly. At some point, Percy had reached a hand out to her hip again and started circling his thumb.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“Creepy. I wonder what Fred would have to say about that.”

Annabeth blinked and then scrunched her face up in confusion. “Fred? Who’s Fred?”

“You know, that psychology guy who likes dreams.”

She was suddenly laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her curls trembling as her whole body shook. “You mean _Freud_?”

“Yeah, that guy. Do you think it means you’re destined to become a cat lady?”

Annabeth shook her head, still grinning, and leaned forward to cup her hand around Percy’s cheek. “I love you, Seaweed Brain,” she said against his lips. He could feel her smile against him. Every once in a while, she would pull away to laugh again, and he would pinch her and pull her back into him. This was why waking up early was worth it, Percy thought.

Sometime later, as they lay tangled comfortably beneath their cooling comforter, Annabeth’s head on Percy’s chest, watching the midmorning sun stream through the slats of their shades, Percy said into the silence, “Do you think we should get a cat?”


End file.
